


when your heart's undone

by blackkat



Series: Rare Pair Drabbles [31]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Comfort, Humor, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “If you serve Madara again, Hashirama’s going to cry,” Itama says, tying his apron on. “Please don’t make Hashirama cry at me, Tobirama.”
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Itama & Senju Tobirama
Series: Rare Pair Drabbles [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1422220
Comments: 30
Kudos: 1429
Collections: why im sleep deprived 💖✨





	when your heart's undone

“If you serve Madara again, Hashirama’s going to cry,” Itama says, tying his apron. “Please don’t make Hashirama cry at me, Tobirama.”

Tobirama carefully hides his smirk, not looking up from his textbook. “I haven’t ever made Hashirama cry,” he says, so patently untrue that Itama rolls his eyes gives him a reproving look. “Additionally, if Madara has complaints, he should bring them directly to me.”

Itama sighs pointedly. “Spite in a cup is bad for business,” he says reprovingly.

“I would never serve _just_ spite,” Tobirama says, offended by the implication. His coffee is good. He certainly makes better coffee than Kawarama, who more or less throws beans and water into the machine and prays.

“You're going to make his hair fall out,” Itama warns, as if that’s any sort of deterrent at all.

Thankfully, before Tobirama can tell him as much—which is sure to earn him many disappointed looks and plenty of sighs, because Itama has turned passive-aggressiveness into an art—the bell above the door chimes. A little miffed to be interrupted, Tobirama closes his textbook and glances up, raising a brow at their customer. He’s bundled up against the December chill, scarf pulled up to his nose, and silver hair is wild underneath his hat. There’s a look to him that makes Tobirama pause, the sharp remark fading to silence on his tongue, and he straightens.

“Coffee?” he asks.

The man pauses, looking from him to the menu over the counter. “I think that’s supposed to be my question,” he says dryly, but he takes a few steps closer and then pauses. Just for a moment, he looks lost, overwhelmed, like he doesn’t know how to deal with the idea of so many choices, and he closes his eyes. His shoulders curl in, just a little, and he swallows hard.

Oh, Tobirama thinks, and he’s a cold man, will never have Hashirama’s ability to connect. But—there are things he can offer, and things he’s willing to give. Stranger or friend matters little, in a job like this.

Stepping sideways, he starts pulling a shot, then reaches for a cup. Not a to-go cup, but one of the café’s ceramic mugs, painted in Kawarama's effortlessly pretty way with the same plants that curl down from the ceiling. This one sports the peace lilies growing in the closest window, and Tobirama steams milk and adds just a touch of orange. Carefully, carefully, and under his hands the coffee takes on a soft, gentle glow as it swirls into the cup.

Care is such a simple thing to have. Tobirama hopes that the stranger’s day improves, that whatever weight he’s carrying is easier to bear, and adds it to the mug.

“On the house,” he says, and pushes it across the serving counter, because care shouldn’t come with a price tag.

The customer stares at him like he’s looking for a trap. “I didn’t order that,” he says finally, rough.

“Which is why it’s on the house,” Tobirama says, rolling his eyes a little. He can care, but he doesn’t have to be _nice_ about it. “Take the damned coffee, sit down, and drink it.”

“Well,” the man says dryly. “Since you asked so nicely. Can I ask how many tips you make? I'm betting it’s an astounding number.”

This time Tobirama _absolutely_ rolls his eyes. He goes back to his book, flipping it open again and dragging his notebook closer. “Take your coffee and go away.”

“And now you're telling me to steal these mugs? The owner must love you.”

“The owner is my older brother, and if he fires me his entire café will collapse around his ears,” Tobirama says blandly, and refuses to glance back into the kitchen at the sound of Itama's snicker. They both know it’s true. “Remove yourself from my counter.”

“But your face enchants me,” the man says, so perfectly innocent that Tobirama lifts his head long enough to give him a glare. He’s not paying attention, though; he’s looking down at the mug like he’s never seen coffee before, eyes faintly wide, and Tobirama smiles in satisfaction.

“Did you want to register a complaint about your drink?” he asks pointedly.

“Yes,” the man says without hesitation, and swallows. “I can't pay for this.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Tobirama counters. “Sit down and drink it, idiot.”

The man swallows, closes his eyes. “It’s Kakashi,” he says, hoarse, and curls both hands around the ceramic. “I—thank you.”

There’s still weight on his shoulders, but…it might be a little easier to bear now. Kindness, even from a stranger, can be a buoying thing.

“Tobirama,” he returns, and then says more loudly, to Itama, “As you see, my coffee is _fine_. Madara is just an ass.”

“Or _maybe_ ,” Itama returns, pointed, “you keep making his coffee with malice, because he’s dating Hashirama.”

Tobirama sniffs. “It’s not because he’s dating Hashirama. It’s because he’s an _ass_.”

Kakashi laughs, startled, and raises a hand to muffle it. “You're sure it’s not your charming personality rubbing off on him?” he asks.

Tobirama narrows his eyes at him. “Since you haven’t met Madara personally, I will forgive your ignorance. Just this once. But do not test my patience.”

Kakashi raises a hand in surrender, taking another sip of his coffee. He doesn’t leave, though; instead he leans against the counter, leaning over to peer at Tobirama’s textbook. The moment he catches sight of what’s there, his brows rise sharply.

“Particle physics?” he says. “Why are you working here and studying _that_?”

“Because my brother is an idiot.”

“Because you got fired from your job at the lab!” Itama calls back, because little brothers having vocal cords is a _mistake_.

It makes Kakashi laugh again, though, and he buries the expression behind his mug like he can hide the way his eyes crinkle. Tobirama very carefully doesn’t look at him, but—

Well. It makes something in him feel a little lighter, and he turns to the next page without protesting the fact that Kakashi is blocking his light.


End file.
